For the Sake of Auld Lang Syne
by Death's Daughter
Summary: Very Vague RemusSirius. Sirius is not hungover. But he's still too tired to greet the new year with a smile.


Sirius Black was woken up at 9am sharp.

He realised he was awake at roughly quarter past.

It was another twenty minutes or so before the words of the person who had woken him began to filter into his mind.

He found himself vaguely remembering a light being turned on, and he remembered not liking that _at all_, and someone saying "..._rasslemumbleblah_ Hangover cure's in the kitchen _blahblahmumblemumble_ going out _muttermutter_ 9:30."

A few more minutes passed before Sirius realised that what he was able to piece together did not make any sense at all.

An inarticulate noise of displeasure gathered itself up from his bent knees and the curve at the base of his spine and his hunched shoulders and his face, half-mushed into an unfortunately saliva-damp pillow and his arms, one bent underneath him like a shield across his chest, twisted at the awkward angle he is, and the other with fingers curled like a death-grip into his duvet, pulling it around him to form a squishy barricade of warm and comfy.

The noise rumbled up to the back of his throat, loitering there a moment because it feared Sirius had fallen asleep once, but with an internal jerk he was reluctantly awake again and the noise barrelled onwards, only to come out of his nose as a barely audible

"Nnnmmph..."

"Are you still not up yet, you lazy sod?" Came a voice, and Sirius scrunched up his face and burrowed his head downwards into his pillow, which squelched a little and smelled strangely of pear drops, away from the noise.

"It's a lovely day." The voice came again, from nearer this time.

"Nnnmmph..." Said Sirius again, pointedly opening neither his eyes or mouth. Finding the power of speech would require him waking up, which he did not, under any circumstances, want to do.

"I've brought Hangover potion for you." The voice coaxed, sitting on the bed, flumphing a load of air out of Sirius' blanket fort of warm and comfy, and jolting him around more than he would strictly like.

"...'m not hung over." Sirius forced out irritably as consciousness bludgeoned its way into his head and made him snidely aware that he was getting a crick in his neck, his face was half wet and sticky and the arm underneath him was aching like nothing else. Grouchily, he flung himself around until he'd arranged himself in a comfortable position, the blissful feeling of being not quite awake and comfy in any state fleeing, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, squinting up at Remus. "'M _tired_, because you are some kind of freak who finds it fun to wake people up long before it is decent."

"You drank a lot last night." His friend said placidly. "I wanted to make sure you remembered what happened after 'Auld Lang Syne'."

Sirius glowered up at him. It wasn't even half past ten and already Moony was asking him to think. Awake he may be, but higher brain functions were, as always, far beyond him, and would probably stay so until about 6pm, when he had an inkling Dr Who would be showing. He hoped, anyway. If not, he would be calling James in the manner of one Most Miffed and complaining loudly.

"What happened after 'Auld Lang Syne'?" He asked.

"You decided our old acquaintance should be forgot." Remus told him, placing the hangover potion on the bedside table with a measured 'click', not looking at Sirius. "And never brought to mind."

Sirius frowned at him, feeling the painful movement of his thoughts far earlier than normal.

"Oh dear." He said, recalling some of the sillier ideas which had occurred to him, and some of the more sensible ones which he had always intended to keep from Remus at all costs.

"You told me that our friendship should be forgotten." Remus continued. "In far more flowery language and a bit of interpretive dance thrown in as well, but that was the basic point."

"Oh dear." Sirius said again, wondering if Remus would noticed if he smothered himself with his own pillow. "Well, I should ignore it if I were you. You know what rubbish I talk, even when I'm sober."

"I believe," His friend said with some amusement, meeting his eyes again. "That you meant it with the intention that we... change our relationship somewhat." He licked his lips thoughtfully. "I have to say, I rather agree with the idea."

Sirius stared at him. His brain skittered like a newborn deer wearing socks on lino. It was too early for this.

"I...What? You do?"

Remus smirked and shrugged with one shoulder.

"Well, you know." He said negligently, as if it explained everything. He had a wicked twinkle in his eye. "For the sake of Auld Lang Syne."


End file.
